


Wizardry

by Kel_Sticks



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: 2017 Dan Howell/Phil Lester, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Cute Dan Howell/Phil Lester, Dan Howell and Phil Lester Are Teenagers, Dan Howell/Phil Lester Fluff, Hurt Dan Howell, M/M, POV Phil Lester, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-11-09
Packaged: 2018-11-03 05:46:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10960947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kel_Sticks/pseuds/Kel_Sticks
Summary: Muggle-born Phil Lester is delighted to receive his letter to Hogwarts, and he instantly befriends Dan Howell, the first wizard of his age he meets. But something isn't right about Dan. Why does he go through sudden (and sometimes violent) mood swings? What secrets are hiding behind his confident mask? Phil is determined to uncover the truth, no matter what the consequences are.Note- I know that Dan and Phil are different ages, but for literary purposes (and so that Phil wouldn't be at school during the wizarding war) I have made them both Dan's age.





	1. The Letter

“Philly, you’ve got mail.”

I looked up from my half-eaten bowl of Crunchy Nut as Mum handed me the chunky envelope. My hand almost dropped into the cereal as I took it; it was far heavier than I’d expected and made of thick paper that was yellowed like an old treasure map. I turned it over in my hands, inspecting it. Elegant green handwriting across the front spelled out my name, address and the room I slept in. Which was kinda weird. The weirdness didn’t end there, however, as there was also no stamp, no return address, and an embossed wax seal holding the back together. What kind of weirdo was this letter from?

“Aren’t you going to open it?” Mum asked curiously, sliding into the seat next to me.

Cautiously, I slit open the envelope and peered inside. Half expecting it to be full of money or treasure maps, I was disappointed to see only a few sheafs of the same old paper. Pushing aside my bowl, I upended the envelope and watched it’s contents spill onto the wooded table. A list, a ticket, and a letter. Perfectly ordinary items.  
Except…  
I picked up the letter and started to read.

Dear Mr. Lester  
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.  
Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.  
Yours sincerely,  
Minerva McGonagall  
Headmistress

“What’s it about?” Mum asked, leaning in for a better look.

I shook my head, a small frown creasing my brow. What was it about? Good question. I re-read the short passage, holding out for Mum to see too. Witchcraft and Wizardry? Surely this was some kind of strange joke. And what did it mean by ‘We await your owl’? Mum slowly took the parchment from my fingers as she read, her eyebrows drawing closer together as her eyes flicked across the page. I plucked the list off the table, smoothing it out and reading through it. Hoping for further explanation. No luck. It was just as confusing as the letter, rambling on about spell books, cauldrons and pointed hats. Finally, I turned my attention to the ticket. Unlike the flimsy scraps of paper that were the normal train tickets I was used to, this ticket was heavy and palm-sized. Along with it’s ornate border and bold black writing, the ticket felt like a passport to wonderland. It was the kind of ticket that you would keep stuck to the fridge long after the show had finished, or have tucked in a box as a memento of wondrous time. I scanned the writing, unsurprised by its nonsensical words.

Hogwarts Express, Platform 9 3/4, Kings Cross Station.

Platform nine and three quarters? The letter and list had been confusing, but this ticket was simply intriguing. I lined up the list, ticket and letter on the table, gazing at them thoughtfully and skimming idle fingers across their rough surfaces. 

Mum, after reading the pages and glancing at the ticket, had shrugged it off as merely a joke or a scam. The rational part of my brain was more than happy to agree with her, but for a moment I let myself imagine that it was real. What if I was magical? That would be pretty ace. I could have… what did the list say? A wand? An owl? Maybe even a broomstick! And what would be in those spell books…

A deafening crack jolted me from my daydreaming, my head snapping around to face the front of the house.  
“What was that?” Mum said sharply, dropping a tea towel and starting towards the door.  
I slid off my chair and jogged to catch up with her, breaking into a short run as fists pounded the front door. I reached it first, flicking the lock and yanking the door open. There was a flurry of movement as a figure teetered precariously on the threshold.  
“Woah, are you okay?” I asked, reaching out instinctively to steady the stranger.  
She regained her balance, brushing grey wisps of hair from her flushed cheeks and straightening her overlarge coat.

“Yes, sorry, I’m fine, thank you,” she twittered, patting my arm as I let go of her shoulder. “You must be ah, Mr. Lester? You got your letter? Read it all? You must be feeling rather confused by now, ey? I’m Hopkirk, Mafalda Hopkirk.”

She held out her hand expectantly and I shook it, feeling rather bemused. Her rapid speech was clear and cheerful, like the twittering of bird. However, despite her merry tone and small stature, she radiated an distinct air of wisdom and power that demanded my attention.

“McGonagall was going to come herself, but she got tied up in some school proceedings and only messaged me this morning - I was supposed to arrive at the same time as the owl but it’s all a bit of a mess now isn’t it? I was never one for being on time, but - oh dear, I’m confusing you even more, aren’t I?

She paused, breathing deeply, evidently just noticing my bewildered expression. She wasn’t wrong, I was even more confused now then when I’d read the letter, but I was also burning with curiosity. My rational thoughts had slunk, defeated, into the corners of my mind, shoved aside by the flamboyant flailing of my overexcited imagination. This was far too elaborate to be a scam or a joke. Either the woman was stark-raving mad, or she and the letter were telling the truth. 

“Would… you like to come in for a cup of tea?” Mum asked hesitantly, gazing at the flustered woman with mild concern. “You look rather worn out. Then, perhaps, you could tell us what’s bothering you.”

“Oh, that would be wonderful, dear,” sighed Hopkirk, shuffling over the threshold. “You are a kind soul.”

Five minutes later, Hopkirk was seated on a threadbare armchair with a cup of hot tea balanced on her lap. Mum and I perched on the couch opposite, staring at her expectantly.  
“Well,” she announced, taking a sip of tea. “I have a lot to explain. Feel free to ask questions at any point, for I’m sure you’ll have thousands.”

Despite her assurances however, it was impossible to interrupt her once she was talking. Mum and I sat in silence - our jaws slowly dropping - as Hopkirk told us about witches and wizards and magic school call Hogwarts that I’d apparently been signed up for.  
Because I was a wizard. 

Crazy, right? But at the same time, it did explain why strange things sometimes happened around me. For instance, the time when I fell out of a tree trying to reach a stuck cat. The fall should have seriously injured both me and the cat, but I had somehow floated to ground and landed without a scratch (I was convinced that it was just a dream). There was also the fact that my grade five teacher’s hair turned bright pink every time he shouted at the class (he just had angry hair, okay… completely normal).

“So, I’m really… a wizard?” I asked, when Hopkirk had finally stopped talking. “An actual, you know, magic-boom-spells-kinda wizard?”

“Yes,” Hopkirk said kindly. “I know it’s a lot to take in, but yes, you are a wizard.”

“Will I be like Gandalf?” I asked eagerly. “Will I get a magic staff or something?”

“No, no, of course you won’t get a staff,” Hopkirk laughed. “The muggle fiction versions of witches and wizards are very different to real life.”

My face fell, and Hopkirk must have seen it because she leaned forwards and whispered, “You won’t get a magic staff, but you will get a wand.”

With a dramatic swish of her long violet coat, she produced a thin stick of wood from a hidden pocket and held it out in her open palms for me to inspect. I leaned in towards it, reaching out a finger to stroke its worn surface. 

“Is this mine?” I breathed, fighting the childish urge to snatch it up and wave it about.  
“No,” Hopkirk said with a hint of laughter in her voice as she closed her fingers protectively over it’s carved base. “This one is mine. You’ll get your own wand from Ollivander’s when you go in to buy your school things.”

“Where exactly would you buy ‘magical school stuff’?” Mum inquired coolly, a slight edge to her voice. “I mean, you can’t just stroll down to the shops and ask for a wand and spell books, people will think you’re mad!” Her tone indicated that she was one of those people, and I could see the suspicion in her warm blue eyes.

“I’m not mad.” Hopkirk stated simply. “And of course you wouldn’t just trot down to any old muggle shop and ask for magical supplies, you would go to Diagon Alley. It’s brilliant, best place to shop for all your magical needs. It’s muggle-proof too. Non-magic people can’t even see the entrance, it’s wonderful.”

Mum frowned, clearly unimpressed at Hopkirk’s definition of wonderful. 

I, on the other hand, was sitting forward with my chin resting on my hands and my head tilted to the side, drinking her words like a man dying of thirst. In my head, it all made sense. I always knew I was different to my classmates. People who were mean to me always ended up with strange conditions and ailments (sudden and stubborn acne, premature hair loss and hiccups so violent they could barely speak, to name a few). While it did teach bullies leave me alone, it also caused a few nasty rumours about me (voodoo magic was one of the most ridiculous, second only to the wild accusation that I was Satan’s child). There was also a group of kids whose only communication with me was a variety of death stares and dirty looks.

“It’s that odd look in his eyes,” they’d whisper, shooting me suspicious glares that pierced me even through the protective barrier of my closest friends. “I just know he’s up to something. He’s trouble. Stay away from him.”

Back then, I was different. I was ‘That weird kid’ (or ‘That Satanic child’). But not anymore. Here was the explanation for my oddness. The reasoning behind the strange incidents. Here was someplace I could belong.

I had so many questions, I didn’t know which ones to ask first. Eventually, after a few seconds of silent turmoil, I blurted out, “Can you show me? Please? Some magic?”

Hopkirk smiled, fingering her wand. “Just a little bit, ey? Just to demonstrate.”

She glanced around her, possibly deciding what magic to perform, and her eyes fell on the worn holes in the armchair’s upholstery. She pointed her wand at a ripped seam on the armrest and whispered: “Repairo.” 

There was a small pop, and the hole disappeared. Pop. More ragged stitching mended. Pop. Another tear fixed. She repeated her spell on all the rips and tears within reach, until finally the armchair looked as good as new. 

Mum stared, her eyes popping and her mouth moving soundlessly.

“Magic,” she said at last, her voice faint. “Actual magic. Its real. It’s actually real.”

Her fingers found mine, gripping my hand in the same way a drowning man grips a floating life-raft. I squeezed her fingers comfortingly, gaping at Hopkirk’s wand.

“Can you teach me how to do that?”

“Keen to get started, I see,” Hopkirk chuckled, stowing her wand back in her voluminous coat. “But you won’t be learning from me. That’s what your teachers, and school books, are for.”  
“When can I go and get my books? And all my other stuff?”

“Now, if you’d like,” Hopkirk grinned, turning to Mum. “And if it’s okay with your mother, of course. You’re welcome to come too, Mrs. Lester. But I’m afraid you’ll have to drive. I, uh, don’t exactly know how. Never learnt. Flying is much easier.”

Mum’s eyebrows rose quizzically, but she made no comment on Hopkirk’s odd statement.  
“I can drive us,” she said pleasantly, slowly relinquishing her death grip on my hand. “Assuming you know the way, of course?”

Hopkirk nodded as a pink flush crept across my hand, circulation returning to my fingers. The two adults discussed directions for a few minutes, Mum’s frosty tone melting as she chatted amiably with Hopkirk. I was left alone with my thoughts. 

A wizard. I was a wizard. I wasn’t just an oddball outcast anymore, I had magical powers. No bully was going to push me around anymore, I was sure of that.

“Are you ready Phil?” Mum asked, standing up to leave.

“Just going to get a jacket,” I called over my shoulder, springing lightly off the sofa and racing down the hall to my bedroom. I picked out a bright blue hoodie and at the same time changed out my baggy green shirt for a sunny yellow one. I wanted to make a good impression.

“Don’t forget to bring your list,” Hopkirk called as she strolled out the front door.

I snagged the list off the table, sparing a moment to shove my half-eaten cereal in the fridge.  
Scooping Mum’s handbag off a hook as I passed, I joined her in the front hall and handed it to her. 

“Are you okay?” She whispered anxiously, enveloping me in a warm hug.

“It all makes sense,” I murmured, relaxing into her embrace. “I always knew I was somehow different.”

She leaned back, holding me at arm’s length to examine my face with worried blue eyes. Eventually, she smiled, ruffling my hair affectionately as she turned to walk out the door. “Your father would have been proud.”

Eyes sparkling and heart swelling with pride, I skipped out of the house behind her and shut the door. The soft thunk and click sent shivers of delight down my spine; I was ready for an adventure. In shutting the front door behind me, I was closing off not only the house but also my old, normal life. From that point onwards, I was Phil the Wizard. (Okay, not the best title. But hey, at least it’s better than ‘Phil the Weirdo’).

Perching on the worn back seat of our small car, feet tapping excitedly, I stared with glazed eyes at the houses flashing past. My mind was in a far away place, imagining what it would be like at a magic school. What kind of stuff would I learn? Would I be able to turn people into toads? Would I be able to make food appear out of nowhere? Would I make heaps of new friends? I had no idea what to expect, but I knew that whatever happened, it was going to be ace.


	2. Diagon Alley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Muggle-born Phil Lester is delighted to receive his letter to Hogwarts, and he instantly befriends Dan Howell, the first wizard of his age he meets. But something isn't right about Dan. Why does he go through sudden (and sometimes violent) mood swings? What secrets are hiding behind his confident mask? Phil is determined to uncover the truth, no matter what the consequences are.
> 
> Note- I know that Dan and Phil are different ages, but for literary purposes (and so that Phil wouldn't be at school during the wizarding war) I have made them both Dan's age.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that it's taken so long to write this chapter, it turned out longer than I though it would be. From now on I'll try to write shorter chapters so I can post more often :)

“Are you sure this is the place?” Mum asked dubiously, drumming the steering wheel as she craned her neck about to search for a parking spot.

“Absolutely,” Hopkirk said confidently. “It won’t be obvious for you, but Phil can see it, can’t you boy?”

I started at the sound of my name, hurriedly pushing thoughts of spells and cloaks from my mind as I focused on the present. 

“What am I looking for?” I queried, gazing out the window at the strip of narrow shops. 

“Between the bookshop and record store,” Hopkirk explained, “What do you see?”  
I stared at the short stretch of dirty grey wall nestled between two brightly painted shops. There were no windows, only a large black door with grimy glass panels set into the top half. A cauldron-shaped sign hung creakily above it.

“There’s, a door…” I said hesitantly. “And a sign… The Leaky Cauldron. Doesn’t look too inviting.”

“Indeed,” Hopkirk said, frowning. “I keep telling them to clean up the front, but they never listen. Ah well, Leaky Cauldron’s the place. Best pub on this side of the Atlantic. Well done.”

Mum parked the car a few streets away and we walked through the busy London footpaths back to the Leaky Cauldron. I paused outside the door, trying to peer through the glass, but Hopkirk brushed past me and opened the door to the cheerful tinkling of a bell.

“Come on in!” Hopkirk smiled, holding the door wide.

“I can’t really… see…” Mum murmured, frowning and squinting at the open doorway. 

“Concealment spells,” Hopkirk explained with an airy wave of her hand. “Makes it near impossible for non-magic folk to see it. Don’t worry, once you’re inside you’ll be able to see it clearly.”

Mum still wasn’t moving, so I grabbed her hand and pulled her through the door. She inhaled sharply as we crossed the threshold, squeezing my hand and following my gaze as I stared around at the pub’s dingy interior. Sturdy wooden tables and mismatched chairs cluttered the smudged floorboards, and seated at a few of these tables were oddly dressed men and women with bulging shopping bags, plates of food or tankards of drink, filling the air with chatter and the clinking of cutlery. A magnificent stone fireplace roared with flames from one corner, roasting a glistening leg of meat and wafting delicious smells through the air. Apart from the fire, the only lighting came from a few orbs of light floating near the ceiling and the weak rays of sun shining through the front door.

“Mornin’ there, Ms. ‘opkirk, ma’am,” said a gravelly voice from the bar. 

I turned to see a wizened, balding old man wiping glasses behind a dark oak counter. He was smiling a friendly, toothless smile and waved in greeting to the newcomers.

“New ‘ogwarts student, ey? Muggle born?”

At Hopkirk’s nod, he turned his kind eyes on me. 

“Jus’ found out today then, ey? Welcome to the Wizardin’ world, m’boy! M’name’s Tom.”

“Pleased to meet you, Tom, I’m Phil Lester,” I smiled, walking over to the bar, perching on a stool and holding out my hand for him to shake. 

Tom chuckled, taking my hand in his surprisingly firm grip and shaking it. “Got some decent manners on this one, ey, you’ll do well, mist’r Lest’r.”

“Thank you.” I grinned, hearing my name called softly and slipping off the stool to rejoin Mum, who was standing just in front of the doorway and staring around her with evident apprehension. 

“Jus’ passin’ through, ma’am?” Tom asked, addressing his question to Hopkirk.

“Yes, of course. We must be on our way. Good day, Tom,” Hopkirk said, giving a crisp nod and a friendly wave to the bartender as she strode across the pub towards the back door.

“I don’t like this,” Mum muttered, pulling me close and resting an arm protectively over my shoulders.

“Mum, it’s fine,” I said, patting her on the back and slipping out of her grasp as I followed Hopkirk. 

Mum caught up and grabbed my hand before I’d gone two paces, walking closely beside me with her sharp eyes flickering suspiciously around the room. With a wave of Hopkirk’s wand, the back door creaked open to reveal a small brick courtyard and a few rusty trash cans. Mum tugged my hand to stop me in the doorway, staring at Hopkirk. The tiny witch was poking her wand at the brick wall above the bins, muttering under her breath. I glanced at Mum, who shrugged. Her eyebrows contracted above her wary eyes and her mistrust was palpable.

All of a sudden, there was a low rumbling that vibrated through the ground and thrummed through my body. The brick wall in front of us shifted and warped; a small hole had appeared in the middle and was growing larger and wider with alarming speed. Mum threw her arms around me with a yelp, dragging me backwards away from the wall. Mere seconds later, the rumbling vanished. Extricating myself from Mum’s defensive embrace with a series of “It’s okay”’s and “Mum I’m fine”’s, I stared open-mouthed at the brick archway that occupied what had, a few seconds ago, been solid wall.

“Diagon Alley!” Hopkirk said with the proud air of a tour guide presenting their finest attraction, completely oblivious to Mum’s shocked — and slightly terrified — expression.

I think she then continued to talk, but I didn't hear her. I stepped forwards with faltering paces, my brain struggling to process what my eyes were seeing and my ears blasted by a sudden onrush of sound. The moment the archway had appeared, a cacophony of chatter, shouts, laughter, bangs, stamping feet and animal calls had stormed the peaceful air. Through the red-brick archway was a crowded cobbled street, brightly lit by the morning sun and lined with tall, colourful shopfronts. Gleaming, dusty and fascinating wares were displayed in shining front windows or stacked outside stores. Striped and tattered awnings in cheerfully bright colours stretched between the buildings, hung with fairy-lights and old-fashioned shop signs which creaked in the light breeze. 

A stream of people bustled past, talking and laughing, stopping to admire shopfronts, hefting brown-paper parcels and shopping bags or exclaiming loudly at the ridiculous price of dragon skin. The men and women all wore flowing cloaks similar to the one Hopkirk was wearing, the brightly coloured hems and sleeves swishing and waving like ragged flags. Owls hooted and cried from perches in the awnings and cats mewled as they wove between the legs of the crowd. Even the air smelled magical, like cinnamon and spices, with a lingering smokey scent from the burning braziers scattered throughout the street. 

Outside a nearby store, a man in a dark blue cloak stood beside a stand of folded newspapers. “Daily Prophet!” he called in a gravelly voice, shaking a rustling paper at passers-by. “Get your Daily Prophet here! Only three knuts!”

“Knut?” I asked, breaking out of my fascinated reverie to shoot Hopkirk a questioning look. “What’s a knut?”

“Money,” Hopkirk said, taking her concerned gaze off Mum’s still-pale face to meet my eyes. “Wizarding money, that is. You can exchange your muggle money for it at Gringotts, the bank.”

Seeing that I was still unsatisfied by her answer, she continued her explanation, digging in her pockets and pulling out a handful of strange coins. 

“A knut is the smallest coin, that little bronze one there. The next one is a sickle, the silver one, and the largest is the galleon, that big gold one. There’s seventeen knuts in a sickle, and six sickles in a galleon. Easy enough to remember.” 

“What about pounds? How many pounds in a sickle? Or a galleon?”

Hopkirk frowned, clearly thinking. “I’m… not very good with muggle money… but I think… I think there are five of your pounds in a galleon. I’m not sure about that though, we’ll have to see when we get to Gringotts.”

Possibly roused by our talk of pounds and galleons, Mum finally moved to hover anxiously beside me. Taking Mum’s action as a sign that she was ready to continue, Hopkirk straightened her cloak and said in a businesslike manner: “Right now, ready to move on? Gringotts first, then we can buy the rest of your school things.”

Hopkirk marched ahead and, grabbing Mum’s hand, I followed into the whirling crowd. 

“Incredible,” Mum whispered, staring at a display of spindly silver instruments that whirred and emitted puffs of purple smoke. Her gaze wandered to the next shop, and ice-cream parlour, where a man in a pale blue cloak was waving his wand to send a cluster of ice-cream sundaes floating to a table of waiting customers. As we pushed through the crowd, snippets of conversation could be heard from those we passed. Two women in pointed hats were discussing the best way to de-gnome a garden, a little girl swinging off her mother’s arm complained that she wasn’t allowed to fly on a broomstick yet and two men with long silver beards were deep in conversation about the finer points of wand lore.

As our attention was caught by one intrigue after another, the worried knit of Mum’s brow smoothed into an expression of almost childish wonder. “All this… it’s real, isn’t it? I’m definitely awake. I was… doubtful. But this isn’t a trick. Magic… it’s real.”

A thrill of joy soared through my heart as the uncertain, dubious thoughts creeping through the back of my mind slunk away with their tails tucked between their legs. I hadn't realised how nervous Mum’s skepticism had made me, and how I couldn't fully believe in wizardry and magic with Mum’s suspicions murmuring in my ears. Hearing Mum admit that this was real lifted a great weight from my heart and for a moment I felt as if I were floating. 

In my new-found clarity, it was as if someone had removed a clouded screen from my eyes and I was seeing the world clearly for the first time. The chatter around me no longer clashed oddly in my ears, but sounded as familiar to me as the babble of London’s streets. I gaped in wonder at the sharp details of the worn shopfronts, the spangled fabrics draped over tables, the sunlight gleaming off stacks of cauldrons. I marvelled at the sharpness of my hearing, picking phrases from the noise around me and trying to understand talk of lunascopes and Quidditch. I also realised that I was actually floating a few centimetres above the grey cobbles. Equal parts startled and overjoyed, my sneakers touched back to the ground and I skipped ahead to catch up with Hopkirk’s swishing purple cloak.

Around a bend in the road, an enormous building of gleaming white marble loomed in front of us. It was like a royal palace, with sweeping front steps and soaring columns leading to a towering set of bronze doors. Hopkirk paused at the foot of the stairs, turning sternly towards us. 

“Now,” she said, “see that little man standing next to the door?”

Mum and I looked over her shoulder and saw that there was indeed a short besuited figure with a large bald head, pointed ears and a long crooked nose. It didn’t quite look human, but I nodded all the same.

“That’s a goblin — don’t stare, it’s rude — and they’re very proud creatures. They run the bank here, so you best be polite. For Merlin’s sake, stop staring! Ready? Let’s go.”

With a swish of her cloak, Hopkirk marched up the stairs through the doors, nodding politely at the goblin as she passed. I tried to imitate her cool manner, but as we passed I couldn’t help staring at the goblin’s wrinkled old face as he bowed us through. His eyes locked on to mine, and the coldness of their inky depths sent a chill down my spine. I snapped my gaze away. Through a second set of doors manned by dark-eyed goblins — this time I kept my eyes straight ahead — was a cavernous hall lined with gilded desks and rows of goblins perched behind thick ledgers. Mum and Hopkirk stepped up to an free counter. While they exchanged pounds for wizard money, I stared around the beautifully tiled hall while trying to not to stare too hard at the goblins. Trying. I was not very good at quashing my curiosity. By the time we were ready to go I was all too happy to leave behind the hall of glowering, dark-eyed glares.

“Now, what would you like to buy first?” Hopkirk said, a merry twinkle in eyes as she dumped a heavy bag of coins in my hands.

We bought long black robes from Madame Malcolme’s Robes for All Occasions, and I took enormous pleasure twirling in front of the mirror, delighting in the swishing of midnight fabric around my ankles. (I also tripped over the hem and crashed into a clothes rack, but let’s not talk about that.) Among a stench of rotten eggs in the apothecary’s, Hopkirk ordered me a beginner’s potion kit from behind the handkerchief pressed against her nose. A pewter cauldron was the next parcel added to our growing stack, closely followed by a handful of quills, inks and rolls of parchment. (I could hardly believe they still used ink and quills, it’s so old fashioned.)

I almost burst from excitement when the time came to buy a wand, my toes tapping each time the wizened Ollivander handed me a new wand to try. After waving at least twenty sticks through the air with no apparent effect, however, the excitement began to wear off. At last, Ollivander pulled a narrow box from the back shelves and, muttering eagerly about tricky customers, handed me the wand within it. The moment my fingers closed around it, warmth shot through my body like an electric shock. Golden sparks burst from the tip of the wand. Ollivander clapped delightedly as I bounced on the spot, waving streams of gold through the dusty air. Staring in wonder at the wand, I turned it over and over in my hands. A magic wand, and it was mine.

“Here, let me wrap that up for you,” Ollivander said in a soft, husky voice. “And that’ll be seven galleons.”

Reluctantly, I handed it back to the wand maker and fished some golden coins from my money bag. 

As we left the shop, the boxed wand tucked safely under my arm, I was distracted by the weight of the money bag I was holding. Despite me having spent at least half of it, it still felt as heavy as a brick. “How much is in here?” I asked, opening the drawstring and peeking at the gleaming coins.

“Probably about eleven galleons, maybe fifteen sickles and a handful of knuts,” Hopkirk said, counting off on her fingers. “Now, where to next?”

I pulled the list from my pocket, scanning it’s length. “Books. I’d like to get my books.”

“Florish and Blotts it is, then,” Hopkirk called, leading the way.

Florish and Blotts was an enormous bookshop with silver silk and leather-bound books displayed on red velvet in the front windows. While Hopkirk asked a shop assistant for first-year course books, I wandered through the maze-like shelves. Running a finger across the leather spines, I read each title as I passed. Curses and Counter-Curses, Wizards Through the Ages, The Life of Muggles, Creatures of the Deep, Unfogging the Future, A Guide to Experimental Transfiguration, Dark Omens an —

“Ow! Watch it!” 

I jumped, stumbling back from the boy I’d just run into. 

“Sorry!” I said breathlessly, holding up my hands in apology. “Sorry, I didn’t see you.”

He shrugged, his dark fringe falling over his eyes as he bent down to pick up his fallen book. “It’s okay.”

“What book is that?” I asked, trying to glimpse the title.

“Oh, nothing,” the boy said guiltily, holding the book at his side so the title was hidden.

I glanced at the book, curious, and saw to my surprise that I recognised the cover. “Is that… that’s Lord of the Rings, isn’t it?”

“You know it?” he said, amazed.

“Of course! I love it, it’s a great series.”

“Oh, is it? I found in the muggle fiction section, it does look interesting.”

He seemed to relax, holding the book up and examining it.

“I’m Phil, by the way,” I said, holding out my hand. “Phil Lester.”

After a moments hesitation, the boy took my hand and shook it. “Dan,” he said shyly. “Dan… Howell.” 

He looked nervously at me as he said his surname, as if he was expecting me to make fun of it or something. I smiled encouragingly.

“It’s nice to meet you, Dan. Did you know that you’re the first wizard I’ve met that’s close to my age?”

“Really? Are you muggle-born then?”

“Well, I only found out I was a wizard today, if that’s what you mean.”

“Cool,” Dan said, giving me a small smile. “So, we’ll be in the same year at Hogwarts.”

“Ace!” I said eagerly, heartened by Dan’s grin. He seemed rather sad, and it was nice to see him smile. “Did you only just find out you’re a wizard too?”

“Nah, I’ve always known,” said Dan, shaking his head. “My whole family are wizards.”

“Wow, that must be ace,” I said, awed. “You’ve always known? Wow.”

Dan grinned, entertained by my amazement. “You act like it’s really special, but for me it’s just normal. What I find interesting is living as a muggle. Do you know about electronics?”

I leaned against the bookshelf next to him, explaining about computers, video games and kitchen appliances, surprised at how little he knew. Dan listened in wide-eyed fascination, occasionally interrupting to ask a question. (“So you have a whole machine whose only purpose is to toast bread?” “But how does the voice in a telephone travel so far?” “Why does pac-man want to eat dots?”) 

It was funny talking to someone who didn’t understand my normal life. Dan laughed at the thought of completely ordinary things like toasters and light switches, yet had trouble believing that computers were real.

“Phil! Phil, where are you?”

I looked up at the sound of Mum’s voice.

“I’m here!”

Mum’s face appeared around a shelf. “There you are!” she said, bustling over. “I was beginning to worry.”

“This is Dan,” I said, patting Dan’s shoulder and grinning at him. My smile slipped slightly when I saw that his easy manner had vanished, replaced with a sudden shyness. Shoulders hunched and head bowed, he sunk against the shelves so he was almost hidden behind me.

“Hello Dan,” Mum said, holding out her hand. “I’m Phil’s Mum.” 

Dan hesitated for a full three seconds before reaching out and shaking Mum’s hand, never quite meeting her eyes. 

“Hello,” he murmured, retreating behind me again.

Mum shot him a concerned glance before turning her attention back to me.

“We’ve got your books, and we’re heading back to the Leaky Cauldron now for a bit of a rest, I’m worn out.”

“Aw, but Mum, we haven’t got all of my stuff yet,” I moaned, tugging at her sleeve as she turned to leave. “Can’t we go on for just a little longer? We can go to the Leaky Cauldron after.”

Mum paused, thinking. Now that I was looking at her, she did seem very tired. “I don’t know,” she sighed.

“I can go with him, Mrs. Lester,” Dan said quietly. “I know my way around Diagon Alley, we can get the last of his school things together while you rest.”

Mum stared in surprise at the quite boy behind me. “Hmmm…I guess that would be okay. As long as you meet us at the Leaky Cauldron in…an hour. Don’t wander too far, don’t get separated and don’t go out of the alley. I don’t want you getting lost.”

Mum looked sternly at us, then she smiled and hugged me. “Got your list? And your money? Take care then, sweetie.”

She smiled at Dan, ruffled my hair, then walked out of sight between the shelves. A few moments later, a bell tinkled as Mum and Hopkirk left the shop. Dan and I looked at each other.

“Thank you,” I said, grinning. 

Dan shrugged, a smile tugging the corners of his mouth. “No problem.”

There was a pause. 

“Come on, are you going to buy that?” I asked, pointing at the book.

Dan shrugged again. He seemed to do that a lot. “I’d like to, yes, but I don’t think my Father would approve. It’s muggle fiction.”

I snorted, making a grab at book. “That’s pretty rubbish, who cares if it’s not written by wizards? If you don’t buy it, I’ll buy it for you.”

“No, it’s fine,” Dan said quickly, holding the book to his chest. “I’ll buy it.”

We walked side-by-side through the twisting shelves, coming out at the front counter. Dan bought the book, tucking its wrapped parcel under his arm with a grin.

“What do you need to get?” he asked as we left the shop.

On our way to buy a telescope and brass scales, Dan told me about life as a wizard, explaining about Quidditch, house-elves and the Statute of Secrecy. Then his voice lowered dramatically, and he told me of a great wizarding war against a group called the Death Eaters and a man whose name he refused to say. He spoke reverently of a man called Harry Potter, who along with his friends defeated the Dark Lord and restored peace to the wizarding world.

“What do your parents do for work?” I asked, breaking the heavy, awed that silence followed Dan’s story. I wanted to know how people made money as a wizard. Did they hire themselves out to cast spells? Did they make magic potions to sell to desperate strangers? 

Dan blinked, chewing his lip and staring deliberately ahead. After an awkward pause, he said: “Here’s the equipment shop. We can get your telescope and scales.”

I shot him a sideways glance, curious as to why he dodged my question. I was on the verge of opening my mouth to ask again when I saw the stony expression in Dan’s eyes. I had no idea why, but this was clearly an off-limits conversation. We entered the shop in silence. 

“So, uh telescope,” I said, trying to regain the easy conversation we’d had before. “Which one do I get? There’s a few to choose from…”

Slowly, Dan’s expression cleared as we examined the telescopes on display. His brown eyes, so briefly dark and haunted, sparkled with life once again. In the end, I bought the same telescope that Dan had gotten (“It’s really good quality, but not too expensive.”) and a small set of gleaming brass scales.

We still had half an hour to kill before Mum expected me at the Leaky Cauldron, so we each bought a large ice-cream and went to explore a huge and brightly coloured shop with the words Weasly’s Wizard Wheezes written in bright gold paint above the door. The shop was packed, and we had enormous fun exploring the overflowing shelves. By the time we had to go, I had bought a pack of exploding snap and a few long-lasting fireworks. Dan hadn’t bought anything, with the muttered excuse of “Father wouldn’t approve…”

I shoved a one of my fireworks under his arm anyways. His protests were ignored.

We had to run to reach the Leaky Cauldron on time, arriving panting and puffing outside the solid brick wall where the archway had been. 

“How do we get back through?” I asked, panicked.

“Hold on a sec,” Dan said, digging around in the pockets of his jacket.

He pulled out a wand and tapped it against the red bricks. The ground rumbled. Instantly, the bricks shifted and scraped as they widened into a towering archway. Dan grinned at me, stowing his wand back in his pocket.

“It’s always fun to do that.”

I grinned back at him, stepping through the archway. Dan was about to follow when a cold, clear voice called out from out of sight.

“Daniel!”

Dan froze, his grin evaporating into a fleeting glimpse of what might have been fear before a blank mask settled over his face. I made as if to walk towards him, my mouth opening to ask what was wrong, but Dan shook his head slightly. His eyes were dark.

“I have to go.”

He turned sharply, striding away without a backwards glance. 

I stood rooted to the spot, both stung by his abrupt departure and disturbed by the fear that had so briefly flashed across his expression. Who was the speaker that had called Dan’s name? It had been a male voice. Was this, perhaps, the father who didn’t approve? Worry surged through me at this thought. Quickly, I stepped back through the archway to see where Dan had gone. He was nowhere in sight. A flutter of panic sparked through my mind. I was seized with the sudden urge to run down the street, calling Dan’s name until I found him. I had to know if he was alright.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I shook my head clear. I’d probably just imagined that fleeting fear, a trick of the light or something. Surely Dan was perfectly alright, his father was probably just… over-protective, maybe a bit strict, that’s all. Nothing to worry about.

Satisfied with my conclusion, I turned my back on the bustling street. Dan was fine. No need to worry. I headed back into the Leaky Cauldron, hearing the faint grinding and rumble as the wall closed over. Dan was alright. I was sure of it. At least, I was mostly certain. Pretty sure. I hoped.


	3. Hogwarts Express

September first seemed to take an age to come, but come it did. The trunk given to me by Hopkirk was packed, bouncing in the backseat of the car as we the joined the morning traffic to Kings Cross Station. I was nervous, there was no denying it. Hopkirk’s instructions of ‘just walk straight through the barrier’ had been worryingly vague, and scenarios of me missing the train looped sickeningly through my mind. 

“What’s the time?” I asked, wriggling in my seat.

“Two minutes from the last time you asked,” Mum replied with a wry smile. “We’ve got plenty of time, stop worrying. See, we’re almost there.”

A few minutes later, Mum parked the car and I leaped out to get a trolley for my trunk. It took the two of us the haul it from the car and drop it onto the trolley with an echoing clang. Mum pushed it into the station, attracting odd glances as we made our way to the barrier between platforms nine and ten. It looked very solid. Mum placed a hand on the bricks and gave them an experimental shove. Nothing. I poked a brick, expecting it to be solid and almost falling over when my hand went straight through. 

“Hopkirk did say I wouldn’t be able to get in,” Mum said musingly, considering the wall with her head tilted to one side. “I don’t really like this Philly.”

“Mum, I have to go,” I said desperately, sensing her indecision. 

“This isn’t normal,” Mum murmured, hugging me tightly, “I don’t know anything about this world you are entering. But… you’re right. This place… this school… it’s where you need to be.”

She let go of me, taking a deep breath and wiping her eyes with her sleeve.

“Okay, Philly, you’ll have to go through by yourself. Remember what Hopkirk said about looking casual.” She ruffled my hair and planted a kiss on top of my head. “Write to me the you get there, alright? I want to know you’re safe.”

After assuring her that I would write home every day (or at least try to), I pushed my trolley right next to the wall. 

“Love you, Mum,” I smiled.

“I love you too, Phillip,” She said, her eyes over-bright.

I leaned against the barrier, falling for a second through blackness before emerging on a platform crowded with students — some already dressed in their black school robes. Owls hooted, cats meowed and a steamy haze hung over the gleaming red train in front of me. I stopped in the middle of the platform, unsure what to do next.

“Phil!” 

For a second, I didn’t recognise the voice. Then I saw him emerging from the fog, grinning shyly and waving.

“Dan!” I called in relief. “How’ve you been? I’ve got no idea where to go, thank goodness you’re here.”

I gave him an awkward one-armed hug, which I think surprised him, then together we pushed my trolley to the nearest train door. I chatted excitedly about all the things I’d learned from reading our school books, Dan nodding along quietly. 

“Here, this compartment’s free,” Dan said at last, pushing open the door and dragging his end of trunk inside.

Once both trunks were stowed in the luggage racks, Dan and I sat across from each other in the compartment. I kneeled on the worn seat, my hands pressed against the window and my nose almost touching the glass, holding running commentary on everything I saw on the platform.

“…Oooh, look, that boy’s got a barn owl! Do adults always wear those long robes? What weird hat that woman is wearing … oh! A broomstick, did you see that? Wow!”

“Dan,” I said, suddenly noticing his silence, “Are you alright?”

“Hmm? Yeah, fine, just… thinking,” he said, eyes fixed on a point just over my shoulder.

I got the feeling he wasn’t being entirely truthful, but I let it slide.

“So… did you read Lord of the Rings?” I asked, casting about for another topic of conversation.

Dan smiled faintly, “Oh yeah, it was fantastic. I read the second book too, but I couldn’t find the third.”

“Damn, I’ve got it at home,” I said, “I could’ve brought it with me.”

He shrugged, “Nah, it’s okay. Father almost caught me reading a few times. I don’t think I should risk it anymore.”

“Your Father won’t be at Hogwarts,” I said fiercely, my voice harsher than I’d intended. I was beginning to feel a little knot of anger every time Dan mentioned his Father. “You shouldn’t let him control you like this.”

Dan glared out the window, a his stormy eyes brooding. For a horrible moment I wondered if I’d gone too far. Then, after an uneasy silence, the he muttered “Yeah. Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

A whistle blew, and the sounds of slamming doors echoed along the train. Kids leaned out of their windows, waving and calling goodbye to their parents. I wondered if Dan’s parents were among them. I didn’t dare ask.

The train journey was by far the longest I had ever been on. After a few hours of racing past wild forests and fields, chatting with Dan and trying wizard snacks from the trolley, I got restless and convinced Dan to come on a walk with me through the rattling carriages. Dan strode past the compartments without a second glance, hands shoved into his jacket pockets and head bowed.

I snuck glances at the students as we passed. (I say ‘snuck glances’, but it was more like ‘openly goggled’). I couldn’t help it, I was fascinated by wizards and witches, especially ones my own age. To my surprise, they all looked like perfectly ordinary kids. If I’d passed them in the street, I would’ve had no clue they were magic. It made me feel slightly better about myself. I had been worried how someone as plain as me would fit in at a magic school. 

Some students were already wearing their black robes, waving their wands and practising spells. I was enchanted by the flashes and sparks of coloured light. In one compartment, a group of older kids were playing a game of cards that exploded and set someone’s sleeve on fire. There was a chorus of laughter as the girl hastily pulled out her wand and doused the flame with a jet of water.

I resisted the urge to barge in and demand she show me how to do it. 

“Stop staring at everyone,” Dan murmured over his shoulder, more amused than annoyed. His long strides had taken him several metres ahead of me.

I jogged to catch up with him, peering into the next compartment despite Dan’s complaint. A boy glared back. He looked serval years older than me, with a square jaw and a mean squint. He was already dressed in his robes, a green and silver tie around his thick neck. I stared at him for a moment, then nervously averted my eyes.

“Uhh, did you want to head back now?” I asked Dan, trying to ignore the prickling weight of the boy’s stare.

“Sure,” said Dan, spinning around and catching his elbow against the compartment door. “Ow!” He stumbled and grabbed my shoulder to steady himself. “Oops.”

“You okay?” 

“Yeah, fine,” Dan said, grinning sheepishly. “Sorry. I’m such a klutz.”

His hand still rested on my shoulder. He seemed to realise and quickly moved it down to his side.

“Don’t worry,” I said as we backtracked to our compartment. “I’m heaps more clumsy. I’m always tripping and knocking things over. I think I broke at least two of Mum’s vases before she learned to put them out of harms way.”

Dan looked concerned, “Did you get into trouble for that?”

“Not really, my Mum used to be just as clumsy as me so she understands.”

“That’s nice,” Dan murmured. He was silent for the rest of the walk back.

In our compartment, I perched cross-legged on the seat with a box of Bertie Bot’s Every Flavour Beans propped against my leg and chocolate frog cards spread in front of me. 

“So,” I started, popping a bean in my mouth, “I saw people wearing different coloured ties. Are there school factions or something?”

“School houses, yes,” Dan replied, twirling a liquorice wand between his long fingers. “Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Gryffindor and… Slytherin.” 

I stifled a laugh.

“What?” Dan asked defensively, the liquorice pausing mid-spin.

“Nothing,” I sniggered. “Sorry, those are just the most ridiculous house names I’ve ever heard. Hufflepuff? That sounds like a Pokemon.”

Dan looked mildly scandalised. “They’re named after the four founders of Hogwarts! Rowena Ravenclaw, Helga Hufflepuff, Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin, the greatest witches and wizards of their time!”

“Oh, right,” I said, still smiling. “Sooo, what house do you wanna be in?”

“Dunno,” Dan shrugged, biting the end off his liquorice wand. “Hey, I was reading Hogwarts, a History and apparently there are heaps of secret passages hidden in the castle, and the staircases move around all the time.”

“Wow, that’s ace!”

Dan smiled, launching into an excited ramble about Hogwarts and everything he’d learned from reading his school books. All thoughts of school houses had been forgotten.

Apparently Dan had already learned a few simple spells, which I begged him to show me. He reluctantly pulled his wand from his pocket and muttered something, sending a shower of red and green sparks into the air.

“Oooh!” I cried, clapping. “Can you teach me?”

We spent a few fun hours making a lot of sparks, bangs and smoke. The sparks were mostly from Dan - colourful showers like miniature fireworks. I was responsible for the smoke and loud bangs. I think my accent messed up the words a bit. 

As the sky outside faded to pink, then murky grey, yellow lights flickered on with a small pop. We changed into our robes, stuffing our jeans and shirts into our trunks. 

“I feel like Gandalf!” I giggled, twirling my wand through the air and causing a stream of sour-smelling smoke to hiss from the end. “Oops, sorry.”

Dan wrinkled his nose, fanning the smoke out of the window with one billowing sleeve. 

Finally, with a squealing of brakes, the train slowed and pulled in at a small station. I reached up to the luggage rack, but Dan put his hand on my arm to stop me.

“We leave our trunks on the train. They get brought up to the castle for us.”

The castle. I shivered with excitement. A minute later, I was still shivering. For a different reason, though. It was cold and windy on the crowded platform. I stuck close to Dan. 

“Firs’ years!” boomed a voice across the crowd. “Firs’ years, follow me!”

“Who is that?” I hissed, stopping dead and tugging at the sleeve of Dan’s robes.

“Oh, that’s Hagrid,” Dan said unconcernedly. “He’s half-giant. Big scandal when I was little. He seems like a nice guy.”

“Half giant?” I murmured, shocked. “There are actual giants?”

“Muggle myths are based on fact, they’re just too blind to accept the world as it is,” Dan mused.

I grinned, “Deep thinking from Philosopher Dan.”

It might have been the orange glow of the lanterns, but I thought I saw Dan blush. 

We joined the nervous group of first years, following Hagrid’s swinging lantern down a wide tree-lined lane. The air was scented with pine needles and the sharp tang of rain-soaked earth and stormy clouds blotted out the stars. Leafy trees rustled and tossed their branches, dancing to rhythm of the whispering wind. 

Apart from Hagrid’s occasional reassurances of “It’s not far now,” our little straggling group was silent.

“Do you think it’s going to rain on us?” I whispered to Dan.

“I hope not,” he muttered, shivering and folding his arms across his chest. 

“‘Ere we are,” Hagrid called, his huge boots crunching over pebbles as we came out onto the banks of a dark lake that shimmered and shifted as the wind skimmed across it’s glassy surface. “No more’n four to a boat.”

Dan and I glanced apprehensively at each other before making our way to the nearest little rowboat. At least, I assumed they were rowboats. They didn’t seem to have any paddles or motors. We were joined by an anxious girl and a small boy with a nervous grin. No-one spoke. Hagrid tapped the rowboats with a pink umbrella and they began to move, cutting smoothly through the roiling water. 

“It’s so c-cold,” Dan grumbled, his hair tangling in the wind as he hunched over to keep warm.

Without thinking, I put an arm around him and rubbed his shoulder to try and warm him. He tensed, and I slackened my grip.

“Sorry,” I mumbled.

“No, it’s fine, you just surprised me,” Dan said, the ghost of a smile lingering around his mouth. 

He leaned against me.

“I’m not used to people caring,” he whispered. His voice was so soft, I wasn’t sure if he had meant me to hear.

A minute later, we rounded a headland and saw, for the first time, Hogwarts Castle. I’d been imagining an old mansion with a few towers, old and time-worn but with a distinctly school-ish air. It was a thousand times grander than I’d imagined. 

“Ace,” I murmured. “It’s like something from Lord of the Rings. Rivendell, or Cair Andros.”

Dan chuckled. I could feel his shoulder twitching against mine. “Hogwarts is much better than any castle from Lord of the Rings, I can promise you.”

I believed him. 

Towers rose gracefully above carved stone walls, the yellow lights flickering behind hundreds of arched windows promising warmth and comfort. We sailed right up to the foot of the castle, sand grating the hulls as we beached at a rocky cove. 

“C’mon, out’cher get,” Hagrid told the group, his boat rocking dangerously as he leaped onto the shore.

The rest of us exited more carefully, slipping over the edges of our boats and crunching across pebbles as we followed Hagrid’s bobbing lantern towards the castle. He knocked on the huge oak doors, which loomed at least three times his height. A second later, the doors clanked and creaked inwards, revealing an enormous entrance hall. At first I thought they had opened by magic, but a sharp cough drew my attention to the tiny man standing in the doorway.

“Welcome, first years, to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,” he called in a high, reedy voice, opening his arms in grand sweeping gesture. “I am Professor Flitwick, deputy Headmaster and charms teacher. If you would follow me, you shall wait in the side room until the sorting ceremony is ready to commence.” 

I felt like an ant, crossing the entrance hall. The side room was a tiny box room next to a second set of huge oak doors, behind which the sounds of talking and laughter echoed. As Professor Flitwick left, shutting the door behind him, scattered whispering broke out. From what I could hear, this ‘sorting ceremony’ was the popular topic of conversation.

“So, Dan,” I said, bouncing on the balls of my feet in nervous anticipation, “what house do you want to be …Dan? Are you okay?”

Dan was staring straight ahead, his arms crossed and his shoulders rigid. “Fine,” he said shortly.

“Uh, okay, well … I’m nervous too,” I admitted, tugging at the sleeves of my robes. “The sorting ceremony sounds a lot more important than I thought it was.”

“I’m not nervous.”

“Oh, okay thats good,” I said uncertainly, sure he was lying but not wanting to call him out. “Sooo, do you want to talk about the school houses or nah?”

Dan was silent for a few seconds, and I began to worry that I’d somehow made him angry. Was I being too chatty and annoying? Oh god, Dan was my only friend here so far, I didn’t want to lose him. 

“I’d rather not,” he said, finally making eye contact. He smiled. It looked painful. “Maybe you could tell me about the third Lord of the Rings book, since I’m not going to read it.”

“But that would spoil it!” I exclaimed, “No no, I’ll get it here somehow. I’ll ask Mum to post it. Does the postman deliver here?”

“Postman?” Dan asked, confused, the tension slowly draining from his shoulders. “Oh! You mean the muggle postal system. No, we use owls.”

I certain I’d misheard. “Owls?”

“Yeah, they deliver the mail.”

“Okaayy,” I said, unsure if Dan was joking or not.

“I’ve got an owl,” Dan said, as casually as someone might say they own a dog. “It delivers my mail. And I get the Daily Prophet delivered to me every morning by owl post.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond to that, but I was saved the struggle by the arrival of Professor Flitwick. Silence fell.

“We are ready for you now. Line up please, single file, and follow me.”

Dan stiffened, his eyes darkening. He fell into line behind me, and I glanced over my shoulder at him. He smiled grimly. As I turned to face the shuffling first years in front of me (no one wanted to lead the line), I felt a hand brush across my hair. 

“Wha…” 

I looked back. Dan was pulling his hand away from my hair. 

“Sorry,” he muttered, his eyes downcast. “There was a hair sticking up the wrong way. It was bugging me.”

“S’okay,” I smiled. “Thanks. You’ve got messy hair too, here.”  
I swept a few tangled strands of hair off his face and straightened his fringe, almost poking him in the eye.

“Oops, sorry. There you go. Now you don’t have bedhead anymore. Mostly.”

Dan muttered thanks as the line finally straightened out and started moving forwards. The second set of double oak doors were now open, spilling light and laughter into the entrance hall. Inside, the next room was even bigger. Four long tables, filled with black-robed students, ran down the centre of the room. At the far and of the hall, a table of adults, probably teachers, ran across a raised platform. In a throne-like chair near the centre of the table sat a formidable old woman with grey hair pulled into a tight bun and spectacles perched on the end of her nose. At first she looked scarily strict, but then the corners of her mouth twitched into a genuine, welcoming smile that put a kind sparkle in her eyes. 

“Professor McGonagall,” Dan murmured behind me. 

As we walked down between the tables, all of the talking died down to whispers and murmurs. I tried not to look at anyone, I could feel all of their eyes on us. A few metres from the raised platform, I noticed a grubby old hat sitting on a three-legged stool placed where everyone in the hall could clearly see it.

“What’s that?” I hissed at Dan, but he nudged my shoulder to shut me up.

We climbed onto the platform, lining up in from of the teacher’s table. Everyone was staring at the hat, silent. A rip near the brim opened, and the hat began to sing. I jumped, accidentally knocking into Dan, who stumbled into the girl next to him. I could feel my face flushing and muttered “Sorry,” as the girl nudged Dan away with a scowl. I was too busy glancing around in embarrassment and trying to hide behind Dan to notice the words the hat was singing. By the time I’d calmed down, the song was over. The silent hall burst into applause.

“What was the hat saying?” I asked in a hushed voice.

“Stuff about the different houses.” Dan muttered, staring at the ground. “Doesn’t matter.”

Professor Flitwick took a scroll from the table and opened it, clearing his throat. Silence fell. “When I call your name, come forward and place the hat on your head. Adams, Eliza.”

The anxious girl from our boat stepped out of the line on shaking legs. Professor Flitwick picked up the hat, Eliza Adams sat down on the stool and Flitwick dropped the hat onto her head. There was a moment of tense silence, then the hat shouted “GRYFFINDOR.” The table on the far right burst into wild applause, and a relieved Eliza scuttled across the room the join them.

Flitwick continued calling names until he eventually got to “Howell, Daniel.”

Dan was pale as he walked hesitantly towards the stool, perching on the very edge. Flitwick placed the hat on his head and the brim fell over his eyes. The hall held its breath expectantly, tension mounting as the seconds ticked by. How long had he sat there now? Thirty seconds? Forty? Dan’s white knuckles gripped the sides of the stool, his body rigid. A few people began whispering to each other, the noise fluttering through the hall like a faint breeze.

And then, finally, “SLYTHERIN!” 

I let go of my breath, only then realising that I’d ben holding it. Dan stood and walked stiffly towards the far left table, which had started clapping and cheering. I tried to catch his eye, but he didn’t look back. More names were called, more people joined their house tables.

“Johnson, Mark”

“Lane, Sylvie.”

“Lester, Phillip.”

I stumbled to the stool, my legs jiggling as I sat down. The last thing I saw before the hat slid over my eyes was a sea of faces staring at me. Then I saw nothing but blackness.

“Hmmm.”

My hear skipped a beat as the voice spoke seemingly into my mind.

“Quite a big heart you’ve got there, oh yes indeed. Loyal to your friends too. Dedicated, willing to work hard to achieve your dreams… oh, I know just where to put you! HUFFLEPUFF!”

The hat shouted the last word to the hall, and the blackness lifted as Flitwick removed the hat. I hopped off the stool, beaming, as the table next to Slytherin broke out in wild applause. A curly-haired boy with dark skin stood up to shake hands with me, introducing himself as Carlos Birch, the prefect. A few other first years shuffled up the bench to make room for me. I smiled and thanked them, then looked back to the front to watch the rest of the sorting. Ravenclaw got two, then a Gryffindor was sorted, followed by a Slytherin. As their table cheered, I searched for Dan among the faces. He was sitting near the end with his back to me, not joining in with the applause. 

A few minutes later, the sorting was over and the hat and stool were whisked out of the hall by a couple of students. Professor McGonogall rose to her feet, spreading her arms as if to embrace the whole hall.

“Welcome, to our new students, and to our old students, welcome back. I hope you are all ready for another year of magical studies at Hogwarts. But, enough talking now. I’m sure you’re all hungry. Let us eat!”

Instantly, the golden plates and platters filled with stacks of food, and jugs of drinks appeared all down the table. Talking burst through the hall as people shovelled potatoes and chops onto their plates, fighting over bowls of creamy pasta and avoiding the steamed vegetables.

“C’mon, dig in,” Carlos said, dumping fries onto his plate. “Want some of these?”

I nodded mutely, too stunned to say anything as Carlos doled out a large portion onto my plate. I was hesitant at first. How had the food just appeared? Normal food didn’t do that. Hunger won out in the end, and I the food was the best I’d ever tasted. For a moment, I forgot about Dan and chatted with my housemates. All of the older students around me introduced themselves; my head spun, there were so many names, I was sure I could never remember them all. 

Just when I thought I couldn’t eat another bite of food, the dinner disappeared and desserts took their place. It’s amazing how much room I still had left in my stomach. I had at least four helpings of ice cream. When the desserts cleared, the room fell silent again. Professor McGonogall stood, addressing the crowd. 

“Now, just before we head off to bed, I would like to go over some of the rules with you all. First years should know that the forbidden forest is out of bounds for all students. There is to be no magic in the corridors, and…”

I zoned out. The moment she had said ‘bed’, I’d realised how tired I was. The air was warm, and drowsiness settled over me like a blanket. Benches scraped back as everyone stood, talking, laughing and making their way towards the doors. Carlos leaped to his feet. How he still had the energy, I had no idea. 

“First years, follow me please! Wake up, Lester. First years! This way, coming through. ‘Scuse me, thank you, First years!” 

He wove through the crowd, a straggling line of first years trailing behind him like ducklings following a mother duck. I hung at the back, trying to spot Dan in the swirling crowd. It was hopeless, there were too many people. 

“You right there, Lester?” Carlos called. “Keep up, we don’t want to lose you!”

In the entrance hall, the crowd spit into two; Gryffindors and Ravenclaws climbed the marble staircase to the upper floors, while Hufflepuffs and Slytherins headed downstairs. I glimpsed Dan following a Slytherin prefect down a stone hallway, but Carlos lead the Hufflepuffs along a seperate, brightly torch-lit corridor lined with colourful paintings. 

“We’re near the kitchens,” Carlos said over his shoulder, pointing at a painting of a fruit bowl. “It’s a door in disguise.” 

Further on, we stopped outside a stack of wooden barrels. Carlos took out his wand and held it against one of the barrels, saying, “Tap this one to the rhythm of Helga Hufflepuff, and it’ll open. You gotta be careful though, if you tap it wrong, this barrel above, here, will burst open and douse you in vinegar. I would recommend trying to avoid that experience. We can get you to practise the rhythm later.”

He rapped his wand sharply against the lid of the barrel, each hit echoing dully. On the last strike, the barrel shifted to the side to reveal a short corridor sloping up into a bright room. Carlos lead the way. 

I fell in love with the Hufflepuff common room instantly. It was a rounded room with a domed ceiling, panelled in warm, honey-coloured wood with wooden furniture and squashy armchairs scattered around. A fire crackled cheerfully in its grate, casting a warm glow. Plants grew everywhere; cacti, ferns and flowers littered the tables and shelves, and brass pots hung from the ceiling filled with cascading vines which brushed the tops of people’s heads as they passed. 

“Girls’ dorm through that door, and boys’ dorm over here,” Carlos said, pointing to the girl’s door and leading the boys through a rounded passage to our dorms.

There were six other boys in my dorm, all first years. I spotted my trunk at the foot of one of the four-poster beds. On the bedside cabinet, next to an old-fashioned oil lamp, sat a little pot plant with leaves glowing silver in the moonlight. Above it, near the ceiling, was a small ground-level window showing a view of swaying grass and dandelions, distant stars being just visible over a dark mass of forest. I sank onto the soft mattress, running my fingers across the patchwork quilt. Three school ties and a long scarf, all striped in yellow and black, lay folded on the pillow. I moved them next to the pot plant, my fingers lingering on the fluffy wool of the scarf. I was too tired to change into pyjamas. Kicking off my shoes, I crawled under my duvet and fell asleep almost at once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!  
> I know at the end of my last chapter I said that I'd be writing shorter chapters from now on... //checks word count// so yeah, that turned out well. Anyways, from now on I will TRY to write short chapters, we'll see how that goes. Thanks for reading! :)


	4. Class time

I woke up falling, a second of stomach-twisting nothing following by a loud (and painful) thump. There was a smattering of hastily muffled laughter as I sat up groggily, forgetting for a moment where I was.

“You alright there, Phil?”

Several pairs of hands grabbed my arms and shoulders, pulling me to my feet. I blinked, rubbing sleep from my bleary eyes. Two boy’s faces came into focus; one pale with a blonde cowlick and the other freckled with a mop of brown hair. It took me a moment to recognise them; Andy and Jacob, two of my fellow Hufflepuff first-years. 

“Did… did I fall out of bed?” I asked, embarrassed, stumbling as I tried to kick the tangled bedsheets off my legs.

Jacob grinned, grabbing the sheets and unwinding them. 

“Yeah, you did,” Andy answered, leaning down to help, his mouth twitching as if he were about to burst out laughing. “Sorry, it was pretty funny.”

“You alright?” Jacob asked again, chucking the sheets unceremoniously onto my bed.

“Yeah,” I said with a rueful smile, “I’m good, thanks.”

There was a knock at the dormitory door. 

“It’s Carlos here, can I come in?”

“Sure, come in!” Several voices called from across the dorm

I hurriedly straightened my sheets as the door creaked open and Carlos strolled in.

“Everyone awake?” Carlos asked, glancing around at all the beds. 

“Phil’s the last to wake up,” Andy said, an impish grin still curving the corners of his mouth. 

“Good, okay, we’re heading down to breakfast in ten minutes,” he announced, pointing at an old wooden clock hanging above the door. “If anyone needs help with their ties, I can teach you.”

There was a chorus of “Okay”s and “Thank you”s as my dorm mates retreated behind curtains to change.

“Already dressed, Phil?” Carlos said in a quieter voice. “That was quick. I thought you were the last to wake up.”

“Umm… I kind of fell asleep in my robes…” I said awkwardly.

Carlos chuckled. “That’s very efficient of you. Do you need help with your tie?”

“Uh, yes please.”

I picked up a tie from the bedside table and stared at it for a second, totally lost. held it out to Carlos. 

“It’s not that hard to learn,” he said, tucking it around my neck and showed me how to tie it, patient even when I messed up and tangled it into impossible knots. After a few tries, I got the hang of it.

“Awesome!” He said, stepping back to check my work. “Good job, you’re a fast learner. How about you go and teach some of the other boys now, we can spilt the work in half.”

I felt a glow of pride. The way I was immediately trusted and included here made me feel like I finally belonged. Despite knowing my fellow Hufflepuffs for less than a day, I was already part of their family.

Ten minutes later, our dorm was ready to go. The common room was buzzing with excited conversation, several people squashed into each armchair and shouts of greeting yelled across the cosy room. 

“Alright guys, let’s roll!” Carlos called, fist bumping his classmates as he passed.

Through the hidden door and up the corridor we walked, or skipped, in the case of some people. Delicious smells wafted through the warm air; frying bacon and sausages, honey-soaked pancakes and freshly baked bread. My stomach growled impatiently. 

“Mmm… that smells like heaven,” Jacob sighed, sticking his nose in the air and inhaling a huge breath.   
“Hurry up, c’mon, I’m starving!” Andy said, grabbing Jacob and I by the arms and hauling us down the corridor, breaking into an occasional Naruto-style sprint.

We merged with the Slytherin crowd at the end of the corridor. Andy dropped our arms and slowed to a walk as we wove between green-tied students. I spotted a familiar head through the crowd.

“Hi Dan!” I chirped, ducking past a Slytherin fifth year to tap him on the shoulder.

“Oh! Hi Phil,” he squeaked, his shoulders twitching in surprise as he whipped around to face me. 

I grabbed his arm and pulled him back next to me, “Andy, Jacob, this is my friend Dan.”

“Hi Dan! I’m Andy, that one’s Jacob.”

“Yo! Howzit going, Dan?” Jacob asked cheerily, leaning past Andy to wave in greeting.

“I’m fine, thanks,” Dan mumbled shyly.

“Your tie is all twisted” I exclaimed, tapping the green and silver knot around Dan’s neck. “Here, let me fix that.”

“Uh, thanks,” Dan muttered, as I unknotted the green fabric and tied it properly. 

Chatter grew ever louder as we crossed the entrance hall, growing into an echoing din as we entered the dining hall. 

“What’s your dorm like?” I asked curiously. “Our’s is really cosy and there’s so many pot plants, it’s like a jungle

“Oh, it’s alright,” Dan shrugged. “Its all green and stuff: windows looking into the bottom of the lake, skulls and candles on the walls. Pretty cool.”

“You’re under the lake?” Jacob asked in surprise. Dan nodded.

“Sounds awesome,” Andy remarked, grinning.

“Ace! Okay, see ya soon!” I said, waving as Dan re-merged with the Slytherins and sat down at the Slytherin table. I slid onto a bench between Andy and Jacob at the Hufflepuff table. This time, I didn’t hesitate when food appeared, I loaded my plate and dug in.

“Hello boys,” said a cheery voice behind me. “I’m Professor Sprout, head of Hufflepuff house. Welcome to the family!”

A dumpy old woman with flyaway grey hair and a patched hat strolled up behind us, eyes twinkling and smiling broadly. She held her wand before her, levitating a teetering stack of parchment. 

“Your timetables,” she said, flicking her wand and floating three papers towards us from the top of the stack, one landing in front of each of us.

“Thank you Professor.”

“Thank you.”

“Thanks Professor Sprout.”

“You’re welcome, boys. Now, the castle can be quite confusing to navigate so be sure to stick together. If you need directions, just ask any of the older students and they’ll be happy to guide you. Have a great first day!” She moved along.

“What’s our first subject?” Jacob asked, snatching up his timetable and scanning it. “Charms, awesome! My Dad loves charms.” 

“Defense Against the Dark Arts second,” Andy noted. “Can’t wait to start that one. My parents want me to learn how to defend myself, they’re kinda paranoid.”

“That’s a double class with the Slytherins,” I added, looking closer at the timetable. “Hey Dan!” I twisted in my seat, waving at Dan to get his attention from further down the Slytherin table. He glanced up from the plate his was picking at. “We’ve got Defence Against the Dark Arts together! Second subject!” I called, waving the timetable at him. He flashed a grin and gave a quick thumbs-up before hunching back over his food.

“We have double Transfiguration with them after lunch, too,” said Jacob, tapping his timetable. “Charms is with Ravenclaw, and Herbology after lunch.”

A gong-like bell echoed through the castle, signalling the start of classes.

“C’mon then, gotta go,” Jacob said, snatching a last croissant from the table and springing to his feet.

Carlos guided the first-years to to our Charms classroom and told us where to go for our next class, adding “Good luck finding your way around,” as he left.

“Was that sarcasm?” Andy mused, his curious gaze lingering on Carlos’s retreating back as the class filed into the room. “I feel like that was sarcasm.”

An hour later and hopelessly lost, the three of us wandered aimlessly down a stone corridor indistinguishable from the hundreds we’d walked down.

“He was definitely being sarcastic,” Andy muttered, sticking his head around the door of an empty classroom. “Good luck? We don’t need luck, we need a miracle.”

“Or a map,” said Jacob, jogging to the end of the corridor and looking both ways. “Left or right?”

“Whichever way takes us to people,” I said, moving up beside him. “We need directions.”

The tapestry in front of us twitched, ripping aside to reveal a scowling, heavy-set Slytherin boy exiting a dim passageway. He stopped dead when he saw us staring at him in shock. A second later, I recognised him as the same boy who’d glared at me on the train. There was a tense silence.

“Hello,” I said with forced brightness, bouncing nervously on the balls of my feet. 

“Hey guys!” came Andy’s muffled yelled from a classroom behind me. “Do you think if we made enough noise, someone would…” He petered out, emerging from the classroom and taking in the strange scene. He crossed the ground towards us in several long strides.“Um, hi.”

“You guys first years?” The Slytherin asked in a husky voice. He shifted from foot to foot, not moving from beside the tapestry. 

I nodded nervously, saying “We’re kinda lost, do you know where the Defence Against the Dark… Dan?” I paused, surprised.

Dan emerged from behind the Slytherin boy, shoulders hunched, not meeting anyone’s eyes. “Hey, Phil,” he mumbled.

“Dan, are you okay?” I asked, stepping forwards hesitantly. 

“He’s fine,” the boy said gruffly, crossing his arms like a bouncer in front of a nightclub. 

“I’m fine, yeah,” Dan said, straightening slightly and glancing nervously at the Slytherin boy. “Just… got a bit lost too. Mullings was showing me a shortcut.”

The Slytherin boy, Mullings, nodded curtly. “I’ll see you later, then, Howell.” He disappeared back behind the tapestry with a swish of black robe, his mouth set in sneer. 

For the count of five, there was frozen silence. “That guy is seriously scary,” Jacob said at last, striding over to twitch aside a corner of tapestry and peek behind it. “Yep, a secret passage. He’s just gone out the other end.”

“Man, who knocked over his cauldron? He’s got issues,” Andy muttered, peering over Jacob’s shoulder. 

I ignored them. Dan hadn’t moved. “Dan, seriously, are you okay?” I asked, putting a tentative hand on his shoulder. 

He jerked his shoulder, shoving my hand off. “I’m fine,” he said roughly, his voice strained.

“Dan…” I stared at him, confused at his strange behaviour and hurt that didn’t want my help. “Dan, what’s wrong? What happened?”

“Nothing, it’s fine.”

“But—”

“We’re late for class,” he interrupted, pushing past me and striding down the left-hand corridor.

“Wait!” I ran after him, determined to get a straight answer from him. Whatever he said, he was clearly not fine. I grabbed his arm. Faster than I could blink, Dan lashed out, wrenching his arm free with a vicious twist that sent me stumbling against a wall. He broke into a sprint. “Dan…” I murmured feebly, utterly bewildered. I thought we were friends. We were friends, weren’t we? Had I done something wrong? Did I hurt him? Guilt bubbled to the surface of my emotions. It must have been my fault. Somehow, I’d ruined our friendship. 

“Phil!” Jacob yelled, his and Andy’s footsteps echoing loudly as they ran towards me. “Phil, are you okay?” 

“I thought Mullings was bad, but man, what the hell was that about?” Andy said angrily, hooking a steadying arm around my shoulders and glaring at Dan’s retreating back.

“I don’t know,” I whispered, staring sadly at the swish of black robes disappearing around a bend at the far end of the corridor. Dan’s footsteps had long since faded into nothingness. “I just…don’t know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the long wait between chapters, my resolution to 'write less, post more' has failed miserably. I'm trying, I promise.


End file.
